Life choices

Found this wonderful speech by creator Jeff Bezos.
Sometimes we should all be a little swashbuckley.

Will inertia be your guide..or will you follow your passions?

Will you follow dogma or will you be original?

Will you choose a life of ease or a life of service and adventure?

Will you wilt under criticism or will you follow your convictions?

Will you bluff it out when you are wrong or will you appologize?

Will you guard your heart against rejection, or will you act when you fall in love?

Will you play it safe or will you be a little bit swashbuckly?

When it's tough will you give up or will you be relentless?

Will you be a cynic or will you be a builder?

Will you be clever at the expense of others,

or will you be kind?

Word of the day


- a shifting series of phantasms, illusions, or deceptive appearances,
 as in a dream or as created by the imagination.

curiously similar in meaning to sophism ; a deceptive or fallacious argumentation.

More on Metaphors

It is comforting to find that I am not the only one dwelling in metaphors and allegories
instead of living in the "real" world.
According to James Geary, the average person utters aproximately 6 metaphors per minute.
And he suggests that just as we cannot ignore the literal meaning of words,
we cannot ignore the analogies triggered by metaphors.

And this is precisely why I love Jeanette Winterson and Joanne Harrison.
They know how to take advantage of this our inability to ignore metaphors.
And to benefit from our capacity to embrace them and thus expand our conception of the world.
Where a literal word may trigger one or two images in your brain,
a metaphor offers a wide range of symbols, layers of meaning; Beauty.

Ironic as it may seem,
the use of metaphors allows us to more thorougly describe the world
than using the exact and literal lexica.

The urge for facts makes fiction a necessity


"He wrote on a piece of paper with his pencil: Psychosis= out of touch with reality.
Since then, I have been trying to find out what reality is, so that I can touch it."

Not to talk about Einstein's definition of insanity...

I have usually been vaguely content with being slightly weird.
Comfortable with my strange habits and cultivating my peculiarity.
But perhaps they are just excuses for something else.
Just another weapon. 

Ceasefire does not seem to be an option for my cuckoo brain.
UN intervention?


How much of all our emotions are really coming from the reflections of us in the eyes of others?
Encouragement, Disapproval, Appreciation?
Are we masters of ourselves?
Or was Khalil Gibran right in saying that we try so hard to be understood
that we end up enslaved to those who understand us?

But what else is there to aim for..
And sometimes the understanding comes from nowhere
A stranger sweeping in. shaking your world a little.
Making you dance.

who do you think you are?


looking at yourself from another perspective

rarely offers any consolation at all.

The lonley acacia/OR The persistent massai

To reveal emotions in a safe way, the use of allegories is reccomended.
This is a recourse I use extensively, probably on the verge of overdosing it.
But there is something sweet in detaching a feeling completely from its origin
and dissicate it by using parameters that really have nothing to do with it.
The most interesting perspectives can pop up.
And some hidden truths occassionally come out of it.

Now, to the actual allegory.

There are several acacias on the Tanzanian Savannah and a lonley massai.
One acacia is more beautiful than the others, it has a perfect shade, offers safety, protection and security.
Sitting under the trees of that one special acacia just makes the massai feel home, where he belongs.
One day a fat white man comes with his ax and chops the acacia right down to make a fire.
No more careless relaxation under the protective shades of the acacia branches.
The days of beauty and perfection are over for the poor massai.
Erratically he wanders the Savannah in search of a new one. He knows there won't be an acacia as perfect and fitting as the one that was chopped down, but he has hope and he is willing to search until he finds one.
Some of the trees are convenient enough, they are not too high, not too low
and they have enough branches and leaves to keep the sun away.
Of course they lack the particularity of that first acacia, and they all seem to be the same tree, cloned into infinity and placed in various locations around the Savannah.

On the outskirts of the fields stands a lonley acacia that looks nothing like the other clones.
It is small and twisted and hardly looks like an acacia at all.
Its branches are all tangled up and it can't offer very much shade, let alone protection for the massai.
But there is something about it, this tiny excuse for a tree, that appeals to him.
He cannot say what it is, and he is disturbed by this incapacity to explain his own emotions.

Perhaps he will sit down under the small acacia tree for a little while..
try it out, see how it feels /pick it up-put it down/
Because no feeling is the final one.

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